


Perchance to Live

by TrailingEducation



Series: The Anguish Series [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Children of Characters, Clockwork City (Elder Scrolls), Daedra (Elder Scrolls), Elder Scrolls Lore, Gen, Magic, Psijic Order (Elder Scrolls)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrailingEducation/pseuds/TrailingEducation
Summary: There are secrets hidden in every corner of the Clockwork City, whispered from the lips of Seht and heard only as a ripple across time. One secret he kept, he cherished above all others.
Series: The Anguish Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600336
Kudos: 5





	1. A Creature Reborn

This is so exciting! I thought I'd never have an important job to do, but here I am, tasked with recovering and writing down the memories in the Planisphere's Deep Deck, where no one's been allowed since…well, it's been centuries, at least! Even better, Sotha Sil _himself_ asked me to do it! He said this task needs a 'delicate touch' – take that Fendne, you surly old nix-ox – and that I was the perfect person for the job! Well, maybe he didn't say exactly that, but the sentiment's there! I'm so honoured to finally have a chance to prove myself! Maybe if I do well, the Congress will see I'm ready to start participating in more important research!

But, before I get ahead of myself, I need to focus on these records. I should start from when Sotha Sil first entered my study. It was such a shock to see him, I almost dropped the ingredients I was holding for my new stamina potion! He came in with that usual calm air of his, looked me in the eye, and said, "Relarise, I must ask if you would do something for me." I jumped at the chance! No job too big, no task too small!

I offered him tea – Mother always said to offer tea to guests, no matter who they are – but he declined. I must have come across as a stammering child, but he didn't seem to mind. He just waited until I'd collected my thoughts and asked him exactly what he needed me to do.

"There are some memories in the Deep Deck that need my attention," he told me, "but I cannot recover them myself. I am in need of someone to collect them in my stead. Would you be willing?"

"Of course, Lord Seht!" I almost screamed.

"Are you certain? I warn you – the Deep Deck hasn't been visited for quite some time. It could prove dangerous."

"That's no problem for me, Your Grace. My destruction spells are top-notch. I'm happy to help!"

I mean, who wouldn't risk life and limb to be the first to review the secret memories of the Clockwork God? Who could pass up such an opportunity? I was so eager to start that I almost forgot to ask what memories I was looking for. When I did, Sotha Sil's expression changed to one I'd never seen on him before. He seemed upset; not in the same way that I or anyone else would be upset, of course, but he had this sort of…vacant? Wait, no, not vacant. The Clockwork God could never be vacant. It was more like he had a dejected sparkle in his eye. It's difficult to describe, and anyone who knows him would tell me I misjudged it. But then he told me:

"A time of change is on the horizon, Relarise. I must prepare for the return of my son. The memories you seek are his memories, truly; even if had by others. I shall have a list prepared before you leave."

That was when I realised just how important this was. No one's heard from Sotha Sil's son since he left the City. There are so many rumours about why he left, but now I might finally have a chance to know the truth! Oh; I mean that as respectfully as possible, of course.

I've always thought it odd that he went, though. He and Sotha Sil were inseparable. I mean, he spent half his life under his feet. There was a rumour that his father had given him a secret mission which I was more inclined to believe than others, but now? I don't know. I suppose I'll find out soon enough!

* * *

Getting down here was more difficult than I thought. The Deep Deck is in such a state of disrepair that the factotums that aren't malfunctioning are just hostile. Not even the Astronomer could tell me what to expect. I'm glad I practiced my spellcraft before I left.

For my first discovery – so far, it seems every memory here revolves around Sotha Sil's son in some way. From a preliminary scout it appears that while many of the stars here _do_ belong to the Seht-Son himself, a vast majority have come from other sources. It feels like an enormous library dedicated entirely to him. I don't understand why Lord Seht would lock them all down here, even before he left, but I'm not one to question his wisdom.

Most of the stars have broken out at some point; it looks like the memory receptacles were smashed up. The factotums, perhaps? I'll need to be quick if I want to catch them all. Another reason why old Fendne couldn't do this – he's stiffer than a Khajiit in the cold.

Lord Seht marked out the key memories he wants to review. I believe I caught the first one soon after I came in. I should write them up in this journal, just in case something happens to them. These stars can be so fragile!

* * *

**Star One:**

The heat of the Well carried memories that were best left forgotten. But Sotha Sil was not a mer to shy from painful thought; and he had much to do, much to do, before the artefact could be allowed to sleep again.

The flame rose and danced, but when he stared within it seemed hardly there at all. A memory of flame, not part of the world of tangible forms. But he could be convinced, at least for a split second, that he had returned to that dark and deadly pit in the heart of Red Mountain, where the Mad Child sought penance from ashes. His mechanical fingers tightened over the vial he clutched, and he considered once more the decision before him. As he raised his hand to look upon it, he saw the soft, curling rays of light within, white and delicate – purified.

"If you manage this, Sil," came a voice, rousing him from his thoughts, "a reignited Well could have unfathomable potential."

Divayth Fyr emerged from behind a desk left adjacent to the artefact, laden with tomes upon tomes of research, esoteric scrolls with no equal or copy. Clad in his Telvanni wizard armour, Seht watched the Well-cast shadows flicker and race over his flared pauldrons, as if even they were frightened to cross him.

"It will be an impressive feat," he acknowledged as the wizard came to his side, "but we must practice caution, Divayth. This is no mere Daedric artefact."

"I suppose I can see the wisdom in tempering ourselves. But my friend – reconstituting a Daedric soul? Imagine if it could be manipulated, if we could do the same with the souls of other creatures. The potential applications are limitless. _If_ this works, of course."

Sotha Sil looked from his companion to the Well. To have revived it so far from the Chambers had required all of his focus, and still he was uncertain if it would perform. The Mad Child's memories, which would have cracked the mind of a mortal man, had borne little fruit in how to operate it. The artefact seemed to have chosen him just as much as he had chosen it.

As Divayth watched thought mar his friend's oft-inscrutable face, he folded his arms and looked deeply into the Well's depths. In Seht's atelier, surrounded by mechanical parts, brass factotums that had been shut down or put to sleep, it was out-of-place. Incongruous, even. But the wizard knew how important the Clockwork God considered his research. In the last few years, all else had fallen to the wayside in this pursuit. If not for the Apostles, Fyr fancied even the Brass Fortress would have become in dire need of repair.

"Sil," he said, but his friend did not react immediately. It was a moment before he had drawn his eyes away from the vial to acknowledge him. "How do you know that he won't just do it all over again? I'm not averse to great risk in the name of discovery, but he _did_ almost succeed. How do you plan to contain him?"

"Fear not, my friend," Seht assured him. He tilted the vial in his hand, inspecting it, perhaps, and Divayth had the strange sense that the light within reached out and pressed against the glass. "I refined his essence. Removed his memories. Whatever should emerge from the Well, it will not remember what came before."

"This memory-harvesting of yours isn't an exact science," the wizard pointed out, "and what's the point in resurrecting him without his memories? Will that not make him useless for your research?"

"He has Daedric blood, my friend. Though not of a pure line, he may yet possess an innate understanding of the concepts which shape our world. The secrets of Oblivion, or even of the Mundus, could be laid bare to him," Seht smiled softly. "And there are more reasons for him to live than to serve us."

"Not good ones," the wizard snorted, but he conceded his friend's point. He turned once again to the vat before them, his arms folding across his chest as sweat beaded across the lines of his forehead. It occurred to him, at least distantly, that the power that throbbed from it was somehow alien, wrong; not quite Daedric, but close enough that a lesser mage would be quite convinced.

Sotha Sil pulled the vial's stopper and tilted it over the Well. It was such a simple action to tip the light out and into the flame, and yet for a moment he could not do it. In every calculation, success had but a marginal lead over failure. A fifty-point-three to forty-nine-point-seven percent ratio. If the scales did not tip in his favour, he would need to be prepared to put the Mad Child down. Then he would return to his research, and the long process would start all over again.

With a sigh, he poured the essence into the flames below.

The reaction was slow, at first. A low gurgle, a rumble; and then enormous tremors shocked across the ground and shook the entire atelier. Divayth leapt to the desk so that he would not stumble into the Well himself while Seht fought to remain upright and on his feet. Mechanical parts rattled and rolled on to the floor. It felt as if the entire fabric of reality were about to tear around them.

"Is this supposed to happen?!" Divayth called out over the clangs and clatters.

"It shall pass," came Sotha Sil's reply.

It felt an age before the worst of the tremors died out and left the atelier in disarray. Pieces were scattered about the floor, brass scuffed and bent, circuits shattered into tiny fragments. The soles of the wizard's feet vibrated as he cautiously rose from the desk. He watched as his friend straightened himself, and there was a resounding, deafening silence.

"I assume that didn't work," Divayth said. Sotha Sil looked over his shoulder to respond, but he was interrupted by a thin, warbled cry.

His head snapped to the Well. In the fire and flames, he saw it; the fruit of his labour, naked and pruned, writhing not in pain, but in the throes of new life. Seht reached forward and clasped him gently in his hands. Lava poured from his skin as he eased him from his fiery cradle.

Divayth, who had so far remained at the desk, all but scrambled to reach his side as the Clockwork God rose to full height. He was looking down at his arms, and from his lips soft, quiet comforts fell, unheard by his companion. Once the wizard saw what he cradled, he came to an abrupt halt.

It was an infant – a newborn, in fact, so small that it appeared almost comical against Sotha Sil's tall frame. Golden eyes were filled with tears and his mewls were soft and pitiful. When he reached up to tangle a hand in Seht's long white hair, his skin appeared to shine in the firelight. If Divayth's eyes were not so trained on the creature, he may have noticed the hardly-there smile on his friend's face, or how his hand moved to cradle his head while the other rested upon his chest, so that he could better see him.

"Well, no harm in an attempt," said the wizard as he turned on his heel. "Back to the drawing board, then. Throw that back in and we'll see where we went wrong."

Divayth had reached the door before he realised his friend was not following him. He turned, a hand on the doorframe, to see he had not moved so much as an inch, still faced in the other direction and inspecting the creature he held.

"Did you hear me, Sil? We need to figure out what happened."

"No, my friend," replied Sotha Sil, "I believe we may consider this a success."

" _What_?" He drew further into the atelier, his tone astounded, close to indignant. "Have you gone mad? This isn't going to help your work at all."

"He will, in time. With nurture and care, he will prove quite the boon to the Clockwork City."

"It's a misfire, Sil – no need to double down on a mistake. They happen."

But his friend did not relent, and indeed it seemed as if he did not hear him at all. Seht was too focused on studying the creature's physiognomy to respond to Fyr's words. He saw a beauty in him that was destined to flower forth. After a while of silence, the wizard behind him let out an exasperated sigh.

"Are you meant to be a god or a nurse-maid?" He asked. Perhaps it was the sharpness of his voice that stirred him from his thoughts, but Sotha Sil turned, child in arm, to look at him. It was a calm gaze, wise and cool, and one that Divayth recognised from countless debates.

"This could negate all we feared might happen if he returned to life," he pointed out. He felt a pull on his robes, and when he looked down he saw the creature's hand had fastened on his lapel. His mewls had tapered off into hungry gurgles. Seht allowed a smile to curve on his lips. "He is young. Malleable. His trust is unyielding, and his potential limitless. This provides me a much better opportunity to protect him from those who would wish him harm. To teach him, as he needs to be taught."

"You deplore distraction, Sil," Divayth pointed out. "Children, the hideous little monsters, are prone to being underfoot and in the way. There's no reason to impede your work."

"My friend, you misunderstand the nature of my work. I am merely a cultivator, the shaper of a beautiful, relentless garden, for which my research acts as a seed. I sense that this small creature, helpless though he may be at the moment, will be more vital to the future I envision than all of my past experiments. I must shape him, as I do all else. My efforts will bear great fruits."

Seht felt little fingers brush against his skin, and his resolve hardened.

"Yes," he murmured as he looked down on the child. "I will raise him as my son, here in the Clockwork City. The lastborn of the Chimer. He will make a worthy addition to the Brass Fortress."

The wizard rolled his eyes and moved towards the door. "Oh, someone find me a bucket. This is nauseating."

Sotha Sil heard the whir and click of the locking mechanism as the door slid open and closed behind Divayth. Alone, he once more held his charge closely to his face, a hand to support his head, the other his body. The child's arms flailed, not yet in control, to catch the Dwemer helmet he wore, or the long strands of hair that fell over his shoulders. In his slim face, the narrow nose, the large eyes, Seht saw a familiar structure, and in his memory he saw the Mad Child hale and whole. But the past was written. He could still influence the future.

"Welcome home, Sotha Aem'uvus. My son."

The gears wound into place.

* * *

Hold on – Aem'uvus was born in a lava pit? _Daedric blood_? The same U-vee that collected my books for me when I couldn't get to the library myself? Taught me the nuances of interplanar communications? Son of the Clockwork God, Keeper of Knowledge Known? _Him_?

Is Lord Seht playing a trick on me? He isn't the type to do that, normally. Not that anyone knows him very well, I suppose – Father of Mysteries and all that – but still. This would be a pretty strange trick, wouldn't it? And these memories have been down here for a long time.

There's so much to unpack just in this first star. References to a past life, which don't seem to paint a pretty picture. It seems as though Aem'uvus did something (perhaps something that led to his death?) that was bad enough that His Grace and Fyr were concerned of it happening again. What could it have been? An experiment that went wrong, perhaps?

It seems that there's a lot I don't know about Sotha Aem'uvus. Lord Seht never spoke about his mother, but I always assumed she was a fantastically beautiful Mer of some sort who had passed away. I never expected it to be a Well. Or is it even a Well? What did he pour into it? It was called an 'essence' – an essence of perfection? Beauty? He mentioned he'd refined it, removed the memories. To avoid what, though? What did he do that he couldn't remember? And where do the Daedra come into this? Does this mean Lord Seht wasn't his original sire?

Oh dear, I'm already starting to get distracted by questions instead of doing my job. It's just so fascinating! To think, I'm the first person to see this happen since it actually happened! And I'd bet a bottle of sujamma that the more memories I review, the more I'll find out. This is even more exciting than I first thought. A mystery! I wonder if the rest of these stars will be as easy to find as the first one. I hope so. I can't wait to see what the other memories reveal about Sotha Sil and his son.

My mother would be so proud of me right now. Relarise Sathler, explorer of the Clockwork God's Deep Deck! Wait, no – that sounds awful. Let's try again. Relarise Sathler, entrusted recorder of the Clockwork God's secrets! Nope, too much of a mouthful. Then again, so was 'Sotha Aem'uvus', but we all just called him U-vee when Lord Seht wasn't around. How about…Relarise Sathler, the Mystery of Morrowind's most trusted collector! That's a name I'll grow into, I think.

I'll do my best to record the stars I find in chronological order. It'll help me organise and edit my notes for when I compile them for Lord Seht. I'll have to keep my eye out for any wandering factotums, as well. Imagine, all this effort just to get roasted by an old-model machine!

If I come across more information, I'll be sure to scribble it in the margins here. A good scholar never misses a chance to make a note!


	2. Small Wonder

**Star Two:**

Sotha Sil removed the child from his atelier soon after his birth, to place him instead inside the Cogitum for examination. Their return was quiet, unheeded; no fanfare to welcome the small lord and, indeed, for a time all remained unaware that he even existed. As he entered his main study, Seht cradled his new secret to his chest and smiled softly at him.

His study was a world of machines and metal, of conveyer-belt bookshelves that stretched up from the floor and fed into the ceiling, and desks laden with half-finished projects and parts of Dwemer technology. Its walls held a thousand mysteries. A thousand more would pass through them. But for now, as Seht laid Aem'uvus down on a cleared table, no other matter was more important.

It was hard to believe, he thought as he looked over him, that this small, fragile, naked creature could hold the blood of Molag Bal. From the soft shimmer of his golden skin to the tufts of down on his head, he bore no resemblance to the Corruptor. His nose was a button upon his face, his lips bow-shaped, and his chin came to a gentle point. Seht saw that in the future, he would become as beautiful as he was once before. But that was a distant time.

"Aios," he said, and in the corner a partition started to glow. The transparent, golden image of his master system appeared, an imitation of life, and greeted him with dutiful reverence. Its voice had always comforted him. Reminded him of the past.

"How may I assist you, Master Sil?"

"I will need cloth," he informed it. "Have a factotum collect some samples from the Hall of Refined Techniques."

"Yes, my lord. To what dimensions?"

"Enough to swaddle. Forty-seven by forty-seven inches should suffice."

"I have issued the directive. Do you require further assistance, Master Sil?"

"Yes. Have the lesser automata prepare a disused portion of the Cogitum for conversion. That will be all."

"Your will be done, Master Sil."

The hologram faded, and left Sotha Sil with the child once more. He admired him in the artificial light. Aem'uvus had fallen asleep, and as his small chest rose and fell with each breath, the architect considered for a moment the implications of his birth. How Vivec would weep if he knew. How Almalexia, she who reviled him, would push for his destruction. Her wrath would know no limits, and her heart would not thaw to his frail appearance.

"How cruel a world that led to this moment," he quietly told the slumbering infant. "I shall protect you, my little lord, from those who would seek to harm. Rest, now. We have much to do when you wake."

Aem'uvus stirred, but remained asleep.

* * *

These stars are proving quite tricky. It took me over two hours to catch this one, and that's after I managed to crack my knee against an old memory receptacle. But a Sathler doesn't shy away from a challenge, and certainly not one issued by the Mystery of Morrowind himself! I just bandaged it up and caught this little bugger with a trap. No more flying off now!

I should make a note here so I don't forget. There's a level of the Deep Deck that's become inaccessible since it was locked down, but it seems to have contained several of the memories Lord Seht is looking for. The lifts that lead to it have been shut down, and the only other route is through a sealed staircase in an area with a large hostile factotum presence. If I can, I'll try and locate the power source for the lifts before I take on that staircase. I might be formidable, but I'm no Divayth Fyr. Lord Seht's machines were built to last.

I must admit, it's quite unnerving to be down here by myself. I mean, I'm not a coward, but every so often a star shoots past the corner of my vision and gives me a start, and their echoey voices don't help much either. The lantern I brought with me has proved invaluable, as most of the lights are either broken or powered off at the source. When I head up to the surface for supplies, perhaps I can requisition some of the imported sujamma. It's usually out of my budget, but I've been assured that all I need will be made available to me – and I _really_ need some sujamma.

But, first, my findings. I remember that Sotha Aem'uvus was a rather well-kept secret before he came out into the public, but the details around that are mostly hearsay. I was so young then, I don't remember much else. The opinion of the Congress – which, I'll admit, can be coloured at times – is that, since he was such a powerful asset and, of course, precious to Lord Seht, he chose to keep him at his side for as long as possible. From what my mother's told me, the Cogitum was just a more private place to teach him to his father's standards. Could you imagine what he would have learnt down there? The secrets made available to him? I mean, his father is the wisest mage in all creation, a pillar of knowledge and reason. I would _kill_ to have him as my personal tutor.

But the comments of Vivec and Almalexia. That unsettles me, and I can't quite figure out why. Perhaps it's linked to this apparent past referenced in the earlier memory. But why would the Warrior-Poet weep, and the Merciful Mother demand destruction? What could be so foul and terrible that their roles would be reversed so starkly?

By the Three, there goes another one! A star just raced through the hall beside me. I caught the tail end of someone speaking; U-vee's voice, saying, "I trusted you, and all you did was lie." That's…ominous. I wonder who he was talking to?

Well, no time now to hurry off and catch it. I have this one to record, first. I'm sure I'll cross paths with it again – after all, these stars fly all over!

* * *

**Star Three:**

Sotha Sil had called forth the four most impressive of his Congress to attend him in the Loqutorium. It was a private affair, and orders had been issued for the Apostles to leave the area and the adjacent Nave so that their meeting would suffer no listening ears.

He stood on the stage, where he admired the familiar metalwork that structured the walls, the arched mural that adorned them. Beside him rested a brass crib, and on occasion he glanced down to ensure the treasure within remained nestled and content. Aem'uvus' eyes observed him curiously. His hands clenched over and over in half-formed thought. But he did not cry, so Seht smiled upon him and waited for his people to arrive.

Soon, he heard footsteps upon metal, but the architect did not turn as the Apostles descended the ramp that led to the Loqutorium. Their reverence – and confusion – rolled off of them in waves. He waited until all had gathered behind him and their feet had fallen silent. Then, after a beat, he spoke.

"I thank you all for coming," he said as he slowly turned. Their eyes flicked between him and the cradle at his side, never resting for more than a moment. "I apologise for interrupting your work, but recent developments demand attention."

Before him stood a crop of the Congress's most capable; Braya B'irar, a Redguard, whose achievements in craft and transmutation surpassed even the longest-serving of Seht's followers; Avonase Sathler, a Dunmer, a devout master alchemist, who had created concoctions so impressive and complex that all students clamoured for her tutelage; Heem-Tei, an Argonian, an expert in construction and design, who from the moment of hatching had shaken sneers from his scales and produced works so intricate that none could best them; and Luciana Pullo, Seht's Breton head of security, her accomplishments too many to list, who glared at him with all of the fire of a woman betrayed.

"We are honoured to be called to your side, Your Grace," said Avonase. She was fair – a woman who, were she born in Vvardenfell, would have contended with a dozen suitors before she settled on a mate – and in her dark crimson eyes he saw an awe that had been tempered by experience.

Sotha Sil laced his fingers together. "I am sure I need not call your attention to the cradle beside me."

As if his words had given them permission, all eyes fell upon the crib. Aem'uvus, whose eyelids drooped, had made no murmur, and the Apostles that looked on him were silent as his head turned and he pressed his small, balled-up fist against his nose.

"Is…Is that a baby, my lord?" Braya asked.

"Yes, it is." Seht turned his head to look on him, and the corners of his mouth upturned in a soft, almost imperceptible smile. "It is a special time in the Fortress, my friends. Please; meet Sotha Aem'uvus. My son."

For a moment, it appeared as though his words had not registered in their minds. Each of his Apostles stared dumbly, from the warm honey-coloured eyes of Braya to the smaller, colder yellow of Heem-Tei. In Luciana's, however, he saw a certain fury; a rage that caused her lip to tremble ever-so-slightly, but whatever tirade she wished to unleash was held at bay in her clenched jaw and tightening fists.

"Y—Your son, my lord?" croaked Heem-Tei.

"Yes," he started to pace the stage, his step slow, thoughtful. "I understand this may be a surprise, but I implore you to listen, and listen well. There is yet more for you all to know."

It took a while, but soon the Apostles all tore their eyes from the cradle and returned them to Sotha Sil. Only Luciana had not looked down, her features twitching, the wrath in her expression tempered by a deep, festering sadness. Once their initial shock had passed – and, indeed, a few seconds more to ensure it had – the architect saw fit to speak again.

"Aem'uvus is young. Precious. The lastborn of the Chimer, and hope for our future. He is the promise of knowledge that surpasses even the wisest of our number. But there are those who would see him only as a target. I have many enemies. He must remain hidden, safely in the Cogitum."

"A child isn't an experiment. He can't just be locked away. He'd see it as a prison," Luciana interjected, with more venom in her voice than she perhaps intended. But despite her companions' tensed shoulders, Seht merely nodded.

"And I his jailor," he replied. "I'm under no illusions. There will come a time when circumstances are out of my control, and he will do what he must. But until that time, he is too fragile and frail, too small, to leave my sanctum. To leave my side. And so, he must remain a secret; even from my own followers."

Their brows crinkled in confusion, and the scholars looked at each other in bewildered camaraderie. A question was traded wordlessly between them, and it was Avonase who voiced it to him.

"But …Your Grace, then why have you called us?"

There was a pause. Seht came to a slow halt beside the cradle, and for a moment he was silent as he looked down on his son. A thought of the past flashed in his mind, but he set it aside and returned his gaze to the Apostles.

"It's best for Aem'uvus that he meets others," he explained. "He will need to be socialised, learn from not only myself, but from mortal men and mer. There are some aspects of life that can only be appreciated for their brevity. You all, of course, are exemplary in your respective fields. I would ask that you become his tutors, for the times that I'm unable to deliver his lessons."

"My lord," Braya's tone reminded him of worshippers from his youth. She rested her hand on her chest, and dipped her head forward with her eyes closed and her lips curved in a smile. "It would be our honour."

Heem-Tei copied her, bending his head so that Sotha Sil could see the blue-hued feathers that crested his scaled skull. "I can think of no greater task, Your Grace."

"We will provide him the entire breadth of our knowledge," vowed Avonase as she too bowed her head. But Luciana, with narrowed eyes and arms folded across her chest, regarded him almost suspiciously, and she did not respond as her companions did. Sotha Sil met her with his cool gaze. For those around them, the tension from the enforcer became like static. She opened her mouth to respond.

"Ah, Mother Morrowind."

Divayth's voice cut through the air, and both Seht and the Apostles turned to see him at the top of the ramp. He started the short descent, unbothered by Luciana's disapproving stare. "I assume it's safe to approach?"

"This is a _private_ meeting, Fyr. The Nave's closed." The enforcer said, to which he offered her a derisive sniff.

"I go where I please."

She moved as if to confront him, but Heem-Tei dared put a clawed hand on her shoulder to remind her of her surroundings. The mages were locked in a staring contest for a long beat more, willing the other to make a move, before she shook off the Argonian's hand.

"He's not worth it, anyway," she half-growled. Before Fyr could respond, Seht spoke and commanded their attention once again.

"Divayth," he welcomed, "I will be with you in a moment. My friends—" he looked on the Apostles, "—thank you for your attendance. Further instructions will be sent to your residences. If you would return to your duties – and, once more I stress, not a word of this can be mentioned outside of this meeting. You are dismissed."

The Apostles departed, silent and dutiful, but each with competing expressions of pride, bewilderment, and excitement. All but Luciana, who remained stone-faced and solemn, felt some childish exhilaration that such a secret had been entrusted to them. Both Sotha Sil and his friend waited until the tell-tale whir of the entrance's gears sounded, the slide of the door as it clicked shut, before Divayth turned to him.

"This can't be kept a secret forever, Sil," he pointed out. "Sooner or later, some wagging tongue will reveal too much over a few ales, and rumours will abound."

"Perhaps," Seht acknowledged as he turned and came closer to the crib. "But for now, he is safe. There is time enough to make preparations, to nurture him, to see what he might reveal to us. Consider it an experiment."

"Oh, yes, the Great Experiment – take one of the most intelligent Mer in Nirn, add a resurrected half-Daedric infant, and observe the reaction," Divayth shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest. "I find it interesting that you haven't mentioned Vivec yet. You don't plan on telling him what's happened here, do you?"

"No," Sotha Sil's hands were folded together, and he did not take his eyes from slumbering Aem'uvus as he spoke.

"Sil, this is still—"

"Perhaps, Divayth, but Aem'uvus must be protected. It pains me to admit, but no good would come yet of informing my brother that his child lives again."

The wizard paused and watched as his friend lifted the child from his cradle. Aem'uvus had been dressed in a long gown of fine white fabric, and he stirred quietly in the crook of his father's arms, little gurgles emanating before Seht settled a hand upon his chest and soothed him.

"You're making a mistake, my friend," he warned him, "but I can see you're committed to it. I'll take my leave for Tamriel, then. This is as close to a child as I ever want to be."

"Very well, my friend. Thank you for your aid with the Well. Perhaps, with Aem'uvus' help, we may yet unlock its secrets."

"Oh, don't say that – I hate feeling nauseous before portal travel."

The pair exchanged a brief farewell, and then Divayth too departed the hall and left the architect alone with his son. Sotha Sil looked at the child with his nose nestled against his robe, taking his small hands between his fingers and stroking soft circles with his thumb.

"You are one of my most ambitious projects," he murmured quietly. "If only I could protect you forever. Come, my little lord. We have a nursery to build."

* * *

My _mother_ was one of Aem'uvus' personal tutors? _My_ mother? _My mother_?

She never _once_ mentioned that to me! Not even after Aem'uvus came out from the Cogitum! I always knew, of course, that she was considered the best alchemist in the Fortress – even better than my father – but she never, _ever_ told me she taught the Seht-Son himself! She went to her urn with that one!

As much as _that_ shocked me, though, I can't quite get over His Grace's comment, or his comparisons of U-vee to Molag Bal. I'm something of an expert in Tribunal history. I've read Lord Vivec's Sermons a hundred times over – you have to, to understand them – and the only mention of his children are from his unholy union with—

I don't even want to write it down. The implications are just enormous. That Aem'uvus had the blood of that monster inside of him – it's unthinkable. He _embodied_ Lord Seht, mind and soul. They were inseparable for as long as I can remember, right up until he left the City. I just—it's difficult to know what to think right now.

I need to rest my knee and come up with a plan to catch the rest of these stars. Perhaps that will settle my mind some. Gear damn it, they better not deny my request for sujamma.


	3. Son of Seht

**Star Four:**

In a nursery of stars, Sotha Sil rocked his son to a tale of a brave little scrib, and listened as he cooed softly to the sound of his voice.

It was a large room – a disused workshop, in which some of his more mundane projects had taken shape. The ceiling was domed, and he had filled it with stars of his fondest memories, so that Aem'uvus could watch them over and over as he laid in his crib. Their soft blue sparkles were a nightlight above them, stretching into every corner, murmuring of times long past and all but forgotten.

"…and then Brave Little Scrib wandered back to the egg chamber, looking for another adventure."

Seht eased Aem'uvus into his hands, cradling his head in his mechanical palm so he could gaze on his face. The child's features wrinkled, and a small gurgle escaped his lips as he squirmed in his father's grasp. It sounded as though he were about to cry, until the architect hushed him softly.

"My, haven't we eaten enough?" He murmured as he carried him to his cradle. "It's time you were asleep, my little lord."

He had built a platform for the cradle to sit upon; a small pedestal, with bands of metal that formed intricate patterns, and a factotum on each side that appeared deactivated to the untrained eye. It was as he drew near that both of them came to life, their backs ramrod straight and their watch unending. Setting him down on the mattress, Seht stroked his son's soft tufts of hair until they sat almost flatly against his head.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice quiet, as if he feared someone might hear him. "You remind me…well, of a time long ago. But hush now, my son. Let my memories carry you to your dreams. I will be here when you wake."

Aem'uvus had gurgled, his arms flailing, but at his father's comforts his eyes started to inch closed. He let out one final coo as Sotha Sil straightened, and for a while the architect watched him, listening as his breath evened and he made no sound other than a slight whistle from his nose.

"Aios," he said. In the corner, one relic of his workshop remained, and the partition came alive with that familiar golden glow. The architect began to circle around the crib as the hologram faded into view. "Record this."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Aem'uvus has shown very little evidence of his true heritage thus far," he observed. "In my earlier notes I theorised that he would retain some Daedric behavioural traits; however, in light of recent developments, it may take some time for these traits emerge – if they do at all. Until then, I will continue to care for him, and assess as needed."

He came to a slow halt at the crib's side. Peering down, he saw that small creature dressed in his white gown, his arms stretched upwards, not a care marring his delicate, golden face. A smile rose on his lips, and Seht's head tilted to the side.

"I remain cautiously optimistic of his future in the Clockwork City."

* * *

I tried to repair one of the factotums earlier. It…didn't work, exactly. It just repeated the same warning, then shut down. 'Hostile force detected.' That's probably the least comforting thing I could have heard right now. This place is so creepy, and all these voices set me on edge. I spent an hour trying to write a journal entry earlier, but my mind kept drifting and all I ended up with were sentences jumbled up between memory quotes.

Well, my knee feels a lot better, at least. It still took me some time to catch this star. Imagine – I'm one of the only people in all of Nirn to see the inside of the Cogitum. And U-vee's nursery! It was so beautiful! All those stars and memories, the metalwork, the guardians! Lord Seht must have spent—well, not much time at all, I suppose, but still! He built it! My nursery just had tapestries of the Three!

I suppose I've sat around long enough. Better get myself up and back to work. It's tough to be a trusted collector!

* * *

**Star Five:**

Sotha Sil had constructed his classroom in the Basilica, replete with his conveyer-belt bookshelves and tables that would hold vital equipment and alchemical reagents. A small desk had been placed in front of a platform from which lectures would be delivered, while a map of Tamriel dominated a wall to the left. Even the door had been engineered to include a special lock, and keys were distributed to those chosen few who knew of Aem'uvus' existence. He had fitted the lift that led to the Cogitum. For a time, that classroom would be his son's sole contact with the city that surrounded him.

Seht had called for his chosen to attend him once his work was complete. Heem-Tei, Avonase, and Braya all arrived promptly, but word was sent that Luciana had a 'vital security concern' that needed her attention. He would not insist her presence. Her small rebellions could be forgiven, not least because they were expected. Instead, he welcomed those who came with a dip of the head, Aem'uvus bundled in blankets and nestled in his arm.

"My friends," he said. "Welcome. I thank you for listening to my instructions so closely. The keys you used to enter this room shall be your only copies. Please, make sure they're kept secure and close to hand in the future."

Seht noticed that their eyes were drawn to the precious child that grizzled in his arm. Such a queer moment for them, he thought distantly, to be witness to such drastic change. In the Clockwork City, 'change' was not quite unordinary, but it was certainly notable.

"This shall be Aem'uvus' classroom," he continued, denoting the room with a nod of his head. "As you can see, it's fitted with all of the necessary components for your disciplines. These will be kept up-to-date, and, in the event my son destroys equipment, requests for new copies can be made via a specialised factotum, which I will place at a later time. Do you have any questions so far?"

He was met with silence, but a pregnant, nervous silence that gave him pause. Avonase in particular looked up at him, and Seht had the distinct impression that she could not will her tongue to move.

"Avonase?" he prompted. All eyes fell on her, and she was unusually demure under the weight of them.

"Your Grace, I mean no offence, but why…" she shook her head, centred herself. "Why would he listen to us? We're only mortals, and he's…"

She did not finish her sentence. Instead the inference hung heavy in the air, a weight, misguided and crippling.

"Do not fear, Avonase," the architect assured her. "Any issues can be referred to the factotum, where I will deal with them. Oh—" Aem'uvus wriggled in his blankets, cooing, and Seht looked down at him with a fond smile. "Do we have an opinion, my little lord?"

The child's arms had come free and his little legs kicked, the noises he made a language that only he could understand. Bouncing his mechanical limb, Sotha Sil stroked his nose with his free hand and returned his attention to those gathered before him.

"Heem-Tei, would you take him for a moment?" He asked the Argonian. The request took him by surprise, and Heem-Tei's head almost recoiled as his heart jolted in his chest.

"Take him? You mean…hold him, my lord? Me?"

"There are some prototypes you may be unfamiliar with. I need both of my hands to demonstrate," he explained, drawing near to offer the child to him. "Please, there's no need to fret. He's far more durable than he appears."

Despite his lord's assurances, Heem-Tei still hesitated. He held out his clawed hands reluctantly, and Seht deposited Aem'uvus within them. When the crafter's yellow eyes fell upon him, he was immobilised by his simple, childish beauty, the alienness of his Chimer visage. Both Braya and Avonase could not help but lean in to gaze at his face. The child returned Heem-Tei's stare, cautious, still – and then he kicked and flailed, his lips and cheeks rising in a smile.

"Look, he's smiling!" Avonase murmured, an almost disbelieving chuckle on her voice. It caused Seht to pause, and he turned from where he had walked to see for himself.

"Hm?" The architect looked at his son, whose gaze was transfixed on the Argonian that held him. The smile on his face was unpracticed, instinctual, and its source was most definitely rooted in Heem-Tei. To see it softened Sotha Sil's own mouth, his head tilting, his hands slipping to rest behind his back. "How peculiar. I believe he likes your feathers."

A smile was a curious sight on an Argonian, but the crafter could not help it as he dipped his head down, showing more clearly the blue feathers that dusted his scales. Aem'uvus kicked more fervently, and his hands flailed as if he meant to reach up and pull at them. From his lips more coos fell, and large eyes blinked in wonderment. Seht thought, distantly in the back of his mind, how very mortal the scene was before him, and what an honour for Heem-Tei it must have felt.

"Yes," he said softly, "it seems he does. Well, I must show you how to use a new alchemical device. Please, memorise how I handle it. This machine can be quite temperamental."


	4. In the Heart of Metal

**Star Six:**

Sotha Sil had arrived at the nursery late, but when the door opened and he stepped inside, he did not meet with a huff of breath or irritated roll of the eyes. No – that was not in his dear Aem'uvus' nature.

"Father!" welcomed that little voice that had become so familiar to him. His son hurried towards him, followed dutifully by a fabricant beetle that clicked and whistled, and Seht smiled as he reached his side. Aem'uvus had grown even more beautiful, more precocious, than he had remembered him to be.

"Uvus," he said. "Avonase is waiting in the classroom. Have you cleaned up your toys?"

The child nodded. It was curious, Seht thought, how soft his skin appeared under the hue of the stars, how innocent and large his eyes when reflecting their blue glow. Even his hair, which was a deep chestnut, and his slim, long ears appeared ethereal underneath them. The architect looked to see his 'toys' packed neatly into their crates – mechanical parts, metal once shaped to fit factotums, well-worn tools that would need replacement soon – and he rested his hand on his son's head.

"Then we should make haste," he told him. "We are late, my little lord."

Seht left the room with his son in tow, and in turn the fabricant followed them through the metal paths that ran like veins through the Cogitum. Aem'uvus scampered beside the architect, three of his steps equal to one of his father's, pointing at the automata that shunted the City's operations into existence.

"Nalli's slow," he said when the pair passed a factotum that was stiff in the joints. Its brass covering was tarnished, its voice crackling, and it reminded Seht of old mer in his youth, enjoying the peace of the waterside before their twilight years came to an end. "Can I fix her later, Father?"

"There is no need, Uvus. Nalli will be decommissioned soon. The new models are almost prepared for mass production."

" _What_?" Aem'uvus balked as he hurried to keep pace. "But Nalli's my favourite! Can I keep her, Father? _Please_?"

"You should be careful not to become so attached to the factotums. Saying farewell is an inevitable part of life, my son. As much a part of the cycle as the sunset, or a flower wilting before the embrace of winter."

As he said it, Seht felt a certain deflation in the child's aura, and his footsteps clanked more heavily against the metal floor. When he glanced down, Aem'uvus' head had lowered and his shoulders were hunched, and if he could see his face he imagined a sad expression would be etched upon it.

"But, I suppose, since Nalli is your favourite…" he ventured. His son looked up; he saw him in the periphery of his vision, his brow furrowed, confused. "Perhaps some lessons can wait. I can see the benefit in allowing you an older model to tinker with. Provided that it doesn't distract you from your studies, of course."

"She won't! I promise!"

"Then it will be yours," his smile was soft, fond, and his hands were clasped within the sleeves of his robe so that he appeared regal amongst his brass creations. Aem'uvus looked at him with such awe and admiration as he walked by his side. The love of a child, so innocent and uncomplicated. It fascinated Seht endlessly.

The pair soon passed the main lift on their route to the classroom. Aem'uvus paused when he saw it, as he so often did, and his eyes were inscrutable as he gazed, his thoughts perhaps a mystery to those unfamiliar with him. The architect realised he did not follow, and when he turned to look at him he saw him, standing silently in the artificial light, peering at the lift that he had never used. He turned and came to his side, his head dipped forwards in knowing.

"It will be soon, Uvus."

The child looked up with his head tilted.

"How did you know?"

"You are my son," he replied. "Our connection is strong. When you are in pain, I feel it as keenly as I would my own. When you are upset, I sense your sadness. But even a blind mer could see what troubles you. You must be patient, my little lord. It's not yet time for you to see the realm that waits beyond us."

"But I'm bored of waiting," complained Aem'uvus. "I want to see the Clockwork City! The Basilica and the inn and all the people!"

"My, aren't we eager to fly the nest?" Seht teased, laying a hand on his chest. "Not yet. Soon. For now, your alchemy lesson awaits."

His reminder received a sigh from the child, but he followed as his father continued towards the classroom. "I _hate_ alchemy."

"It's a crucial discipline. I've an exam scheduled to ensure you have at least attempted to listen to myself and Avonase. Let us not have a repeat of the stamina potion-sleep draught incident."

Aem'uvus giggle was soft enough that Sotha Sil realised he was not meant to hear it.

* * *

Ah, U-vee's infamous dislike of alchemy. I remember that. He used to tell us, "If you have questions about the alchemical processes behind my experiments, please, refer to my notes. The less I'm made to speak about them, the happier I am." It became an inside joke around the Basilica. Still, he must have listened to Mother and Lord Seht, since he never had an issue at the stations.

I mentioned before that some of these memories belong to Aem'uvus, and it seems the next on the list is one of them. I'll mark it and all others with his name for clarity, to make it easier when I'm preparing the final transcription for Lord Seht. Can't very well hand him this jumble of notes, can I?

Still haven't found a viable power source for the lifts. I really want to avoid that staircase, so I may head up soon and ask the Astronomer what she knows. I mean, no one's been down here in centuries, but she's the best chance I have, right?

* * *

**Star Seven: (Aem'uvus)**

His father helped him clamber on the lift to the classroom, his fabricant in one arm and his free hand clutched in Seht's. The metal was sturdy underneath his feet, comforting, even, and as he placed his pet down at his side Aem'uvus looked up at the architect that towered over him. His dark complexion and ever-calm expression had always comforted the young lord.

"Can you come with me?" he asked. "I built a senche-tiger from the pictures in my books."

"Much as I would like to, Uvus, I have other business to tend to," his father replied. The child tried to hide the disappointment on his face, but Seht rested his hand on his head. "I will return to walk you to your room once Avonase's lecture ends. We will speak more of this senche-tiger then, my little lord."

Aem'uvus' features brightened, and he nodded eagerly. Sotha Sil reached forward to touch the lever, and, with a look to confirm his son was prepared, he pulled it down.

There was a _clunk_ , and the platform jolted. Gears turned and crunched against each other, and chains rattled inside the walls. It was such a familiar sound, so natural to him, but in the stars and books he had learnt of birdsong, of wind rustling through tall grass, and instead of steel and oil the air smelt sweet, like the flowers Avonase sometimes stocked the classroom shelves with. He watched his father's face as the lift rose, until it passed the threshold and he faded from sight. Then for ten long seconds, he and his fabricant stood alone in the lift-shaft, lit at intervals by warm blue lights, where he prepared himself to suffer the torture of reagent identification.

But when he crossed the final threshold and the shaft widened into a room, it was not Avonase that waited for him.

"Heem-Tei!" he exclaimed when he saw the crafter, inspecting the senche-tiger model that sat in the corner of the room. It was placed beside a smaller, stationary factotum with a telecom built into the faceplate. Heem-Tei looked up, and welcomed him with that lipless smile and respectful dip of the head as Aem'uvus rushed to meet him.

"Lord Uvus," he welcomed. "I'd hoped Lord Seht would be with you. No matter."

"I'm so happy you're here! Look! I made that model!" The child pointed wildly to his creation, so intricate in its design. When Heem-Tei looked at it, he could almost imagine the metal plates rippling as muscles when it moved, and that its polished teeth would part to reveal a wet tongue hidden behind them.

"Yes, I saw. Very excellent work, U-vee. I suspect His Grace will be most pleased when he sees it."

"He said, when he picks me up after the lesson, we'll talk about it—but wait—" Aem'uvus paused and fixed the crafter with a bewildered stare. "Where's Avonase? Father said she'd be waiting for me."

"Avonase was called away last minute," Heem-Tei approached one of the tables, where he had set down a stack of papers riddled with the Dunmer's distinctive scrawl. "Her daughter's ill, and since her husband's accident—well, no need for specifics, I suppose. She's sent me a list of topics to cover for today's lesson."

The child could not help but sigh as he reluctantly left his creation's side to climb into his desk chair. He flopped on the tabletop, his chin resting on his folded arms, his brow low and disapproving while Heem-Tei prepared Avonase's notes. His fabricant's legs clicked against the floor when it scuttled to rest near his feet. "Can't we just do another construction class? Alchemy's so _boring_."

"You've already had your exam for construction and design," the crafter pointed out. "Perfect scores, if I recall. It's only fair to Avonase that you put the same effort into alchemy."

Aem'uvus paused. Despite his dislike of her discipline, he saw the Dunmer as his friend; and his father had told him the importance of kindness, even if it meant personal sacrifice. So, even though he sighed and huffed, the child straightened in his seat. He looked at Heem-Tei and, with a roll of his shoulders, he nodded.

"Okay," he said. "I will."

"Then we should begin right away," Heem-Tei set the notes down on the boy's desk before he took to the lecture stage. As Aem'uvus sifted through the papers, the crafter held the first chapter before him and cleared his throat.

"In mixing a potion of invisibility, the ingredients one uses must be of only the best quality – no older than a day, and from reputable sources. Such ingredients in the Clockwork City are difficult to find, but just as Lord Seht has provided us this sanctuary of logic and reason, so too has he—"

* * *

Urgh, I've heard this lecture a thousand times over. I tell you, though, this Heem-Tei was no Avonase Sathler when it came to delivering it! She had such love for her craft. She used to tell me it was how she met my father. I always loved the story of her spilling nirnroot extract on his robes when they were apprentices.

But there's no real point in recording this part. Lord Seht no doubt knows all about invisibility potions, and if I change my mind, I can just fill it in later. Vehk knows I've heard it enough. On to the next!

* * *

**Star Eight:**

The Throne Aligned was the sole place in the Cogitum in which Aem'uvus had not set foot.

It was Sotha Sil's sanctum; the seat of his power, the heart and soul of his fair city. There would come a time when his son would see it, in all of its mechanical glory. He would see the spheres and circles that wound around his father's creation, and the amber light that poured within and appeared, at least at a glance, to set the air aflame. But that would be a difficult day, and challenge all that he had nurtured within him.

That was the future. For now, Seht had other concerns.

Vivec's recent troubles had not passed unnoticed. He had watched it from afar, longing to send his aid, but aware that it would do little more than complicate matters further. Too much input and the mortals would bicker on the path forward, until his brother's waning power failed and Baar Dau came crashing down upon them. That it was his device that had caused such trouble, however, gave him cause to monitor the situation closely. Sunna'rah as a tool was complex, and as a weapon, devastating.

The architect approached his throne. As he did, however, he felt a queer disturbance in the air; a beat of magicka both alien and perverse. He paused and looked towards the entrance, his brow low.

Then it hit him, all at once.

It was such power, such evil, malicious intent, that he knew in an instant that it could be no mortal creature. All the force behind it was that of chaos. Were he a lesser mer, Seht may have staggered under its crushing weight. But instead he moved quickly towards the door, and Aios' voice came over the room.

"Master Sil," it trilled, "Daedric interference has been detected in the Maintenance Junction. An unknown mortal agent is currently in pursuit. All functions await your command."

"Cease all maintenance work," he replied as the door opened and he entered the main hall of his Cogitum. "Set all active factotums to defensive protocols, and activate all dormant defences in that section. It will not stop the creature, but it will slow its path."

"Your will be done, my lord."

"And inform Aem'uvus that he's to leave his lecture immediately and return to the Cogitum," he added. "I'm en route to collect him. Do not tell him of the intruder. He must remain unaware of what's happening."

"Yes, Master Sil. A message has been dispatched via the classroom factotum, and all non-defensive operations in the Maintenance Junction ceased."

"Excellent. Continue to watch after this mortal agent. I will require an update once I've returned to the Throne."

Sotha Sil hurried through the halls, his pace not a run, but a brisk walk that carried him quickly down the paths and through the machines that now were still and silent, poised for an assault. In his mind, he knew that this creature would meet its match in the mortal that pursued it. But that it had entered at all was enough; and he feared it a prelude for more dark horizons. He needed to ensure Aem'uvus was kept safe, out-of-reach. His role in what was to come was vital.

Seht would mourn in private for the coming loss of his son's innocence.


	5. The Cusp of Evil

It's become difficult for me to sleep down here.

I mean, between the stars, the memories, the list, my head's just full of noise all the time – and that's not even accounting the creepy factor of this whole place. I swear, sometimes when I'm scouting, I can hear a second set of footsteps just behind me.

But that's just silly. Lord Seht made it abundantly clear that I'm alone down here. Besides, I haven't seen anyone else. It's all nerves. I don't want to mess up and damage a star, but the Father of Mysteries wouldn't have chosen me without some confidence in my abilities. _I_ have to start believing in myself more. Like he does.

Right, I've moped long enough. Time for some work. I'll be done with this list and out of here in no time!

* * *

**Star Nine: (Aem'uvus)**

Ten seconds had never felt like an eternity before.

Aem'uvus' apprehension was wound up in tense shoulders and a worried bottom lip, but he did not voice it when he looked down at his beloved fabricant. He had not even confided them in Heem-Tei, who had shared with him a bewildered look when the message first came over the classroom factotum. Perhaps, he thought to himself, his father had overheard his difficulties and decided to recall him from his lesson, so he could conduct it himself. Unprecedented, to be certain, but not entirely outside of the realm of possibility.

But there was an odd pulse in the air, queer and powerful, that Aem'uvus had never felt before. It was alien and familiar all at once, though he could not quite place it.

By the time the lift passed the threshold and clicked into the floor, the child was more than a little ill-at-ease.

Seht rounded the corner in the same instant, and quickly came to meet him as he stepped from the platform. His expression was calm, a touch inscrutable, but it did little to ease the boy's discomfort.

"Father," he said, "what's happening?"

He did not answer him immediately. Instead, Sotha Sil crouched and lifted him from the floor, holding him close as he turned and started once more down the path. "It's of no concern, my little lord. A scan of the environment for the new models, which requires you to be in your room."

"What's that? I can feel…something. It's strong."

"An experiment, nothing more," his father assured him. But Aem'uvus' senses were sharp, and his ears warred with them for dominance. That peculiar energy pulsed in the air as a heartbeat – a fierce, powerful heartbeat, malevolent, and with tar for blood. It was such that after a moment, it threatened to overwhelm him. He ducked his head into his father's robes, focusing on the feel of the fabric underneath his fingers, the mechanical arms that had cradled him his entire life, how his hair smelt, curiously, of metal and jasmine.

"It's too much…" he whimpered. Seht's paced quickened, and the child felt his grip tighten around him.

"Hush," he soothed. "Focus on my voice. You built a senche-tiger, yes? I'm eager to hear more about it."

Aem'uvus squinted against the throb. When he looked at him, he saw his father's eyes were fixed on the path ahead, as if traversing it required all of his concentration. He wondered if the energy troubled him as well.

"Okay," he whispered.

* * *

**Star Ten:**

Sotha Sil felt the clutch of his son's fingers as he set him on the floor. Under the nursery stars, his large, anxious eyes glimmered, and the architect was reminded of children in ancient battles, so helpless and innocent. So much was the casualty of war.

"Remain here," he instructed him. "I will return once the scan is complete."

"Can I come with you?" Aem'uvus asked. "Please?" His voice was nervous, afraid, even, and it pained Sotha Sil that he had to shake his head.

"I must tend to the experiment. If left without supervision, the reaction could be…volatile," he explained. The child did not deflate, but his features were tight and his posture prone, as though he was poised to flee if needed. He felt his comforts would do little to soothe him. "Soon the energy will disperse, my little lord. I will ensure it myself. There's no reason to fear."

But Aem'uvus' gaze remained unconvinced. It was only due to his trust in his father that he did not protest. Instead he lingered, the ever-dutiful son, clasping his hands together as he shuffled from foot to foot. "Do you promise you'll be back soon?"

Seht laid his hand on his own chest. "I would never leave you willingly, my little lord." Then he looked into the room itself – at the brass bed that sat between Aem'uvus' twin guardians, and the bookshelves that had been stuffed haphazardly with journals, hardcovers, and all manner of metal parts. "Read your novels. They will distract you until I return. And, Uvus?"

The child's head tilted.

"I would never allow for you to come to harm."

Aem'uvus rolled his shoulders, straightening so that he could hold his head high and meet the architect's gaze. "I know, Father."

It was an unspoken farewell, when Sotha Sil left him in the safety of his nursery. A promise that he would be with him soon. But as the door closed behind him Seht lingered for a moment more, his hand rested against it, and recalled the dubious expression on his son's face, how he, even in his sheltered nature, could sense that something was amiss. That he had not been told the truth. In calmer circumstances, he would marvel at the child's natural sensitivity. But it was not the time for that. No.

He had to prepare for the trials his son would soon face.

* * *

Daedric presences, in the Clockwork City? I was alive when this all happened, and I don't remember a thing about that. Though, Heem-Tei did mention that I was ill at the time. Still, Mother never mentioned it. I don't suppose she would, on second thought. Perhaps she didn't even know? If it was all contained inside His Grace's inner mechanisms…

I've always been taught that Daedric influences couldn't pass through Sotha Sil's wards, and the Congress is _not_ happy to discuss the Princes. Aem'uvus' lectures were the only times I recall them examined in any depth. I suspect because he could withstand Oblivion's lure enough to study it. Those classes had such high standards for entrance, I was so proud when I was accepted!

This is all so _fascinating_! (Note to self: Terrifying. Terrifying would be the correct response to this revelation).

* * *

**Star Eleven: (Aem'uvus)**

The pulse remained, but over time it had waned from Aem'uvus' notice and existed as but a faint irritant in the back of his mind. He did as his father asked and focused himself on his books. But as an hour passed, and then two, his attention faltered from the rituals of Argonian tribes and turned instead to Seht's prolonged absence.

Aem'uvus jumped down from his bed. The movement caused the stack he balanced beside him to topple, and the books tumbled down on to his beloved beetle.

"Vennu!" he said as he hurried to release it from its sudden prison. "I'm sorry! Father says I need to be more careful."

The fabricant appeared to shake itself quickly of the ordeal and puttered to Aem'uvus' side. Built when he had first come under his father's tutelage, it had been his first project, and ever since his constant companion. Sotha Sil had advised him against calling it his friend, for one day its soul gem would die out or its legs would corrode and cease to function. But he did in secret, for it travelled with him wherever he wandered.

"Where _is_ he?" the child wondered, folding his arms across his chest. He looked at the door, still fastened shut, with his brow furrowed. "He said he would come back soon."

For a moment, he considered disobeying his father's command and venturing out to find him. Seht would forgive him, he was certain; after a thorough chastisement, of course. But just as he stepped towards the door, he felt a change – as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and dissipated in the air just above him. The floor no longer pulsed, and he could feel no tar-heartbeat in the walls.

The energy had vanished.

"Vennu, it's gone!" he exclaimed to his fabricant. "Father must be finished. He'll come soon. I should clean up my books—"

A click interrupted him, and then a loud, terrible thundering that made him start. Aem'uvus snapped to the door, and saw that large, steel bars had slid out from holes he had never seen before, sealing it – and himself – in place.

"What…?"

He drew closer to the door. When he touched the bars, he felt a tremble of magicka; an enchantment, one that he had never studied before. His father's work, that much he was certain of. It held his distinct flares, the flourishes of a master. But Aem'uvus had never seen him implement them, and he could not tell their purpose.

Another crash sounded elsewhere; a distant noise, felt more than heard. His muscles tightened, and his fingers stilled. Danger lurked in the halls of the Cogitum. He sensed it, and it was a terrible, chilling sense, entirely foreign to that small child who crouched beside his door.

He scrambled from the entrance. The faint comfort of his father's enchantment receded, and he felt, even in the familiar walls of his nursery, that he was on the cusp of some foul evil. If he were at Sotha Sil's side, he would feel no fear. Indeed, he had never felt it before. But the architect was not there, and, briefly, he felt as though he would never be again.

But just as the thought crossed his mind, he noticed that the stars appeared brighter overhead. The soft sparkles had strengthened, and as he craned his neck Aem'uvus saw that one in particular seemed to guide them. It drifted to and fro, touching each of its brothers, setting them almost aflame.

"Vennu," he murmured as he stared, "what's happening?"

* * *

That's odd. Have I jumbled the list up somehow? Or did Lord Seht write this out of order? I mean, so far all of the memories have been listed chronologically, but this one – it's from before, when Aem'uvus was a baby.

Oh! Perhaps it's the star he saw – the glowing one? This is all so surreal. It's as if I'm truly looking through U-vee's eyes, or the eyes of Lord Seht. I've had to remind myself I wasn't there for any of this. But these memories are just so vivid, it feels as though I'm right in that room.

I'll write up this next star, then start cooking dinner. It's a bit disorientating to watch these for so long.

* * *

**Star Twelve:**

Sotha Sil cradled his swaddled son, while above them memories of soft lullabies carried him to sleep.

He had fed him, cleaned him, whispered wisdom into his slender ears; and for another cycle, Aem'uvus was sated. But Seht found himself, even as the child drifted, looking ahead to when he would wake. There was yet more he had to teach him. More he desired to impart. To instil his son with the secrets he had acquired, and the principles that dictated his life.

"Ah, my small one," he murmured, "how the world seems to slumber with you."

He was heavier; no longer a newborn. A comfortable weight in his arms, the architect found that he wished for more time. He wished for him to remain that small for a while longer, and stave off the hardships he foresaw in their future. But that was not in his power. Instead, he kissed Aem'uvus' forehead softly, and held him so that he could gaze upon his face.

"There will come a time when you will be without me," he told him, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "It may be confusing at first. Even frightening. Trust in yourself, my little lord. You will overcome that which seems insurmountable. And know that I shall be proud. No matter how you rise to the occasion."

The child's breath evened, and Sotha Sil smiled as Aem'uvus left the waking world for his dreams.


	6. In Darkness, It Rises

**Star Thirteen: (Aem'uvus)**

Aem'uvus' nursery was littered with opened novels and completed projects. His bedsheets were a heaped mess on the floor, and his tools were slick with oil. But despite following his father's instructions, Sotha Sil had not yet come to collect him. Nor, even, had any explanation of his whereabouts been offered from the factotums. The child's anxiety had not ebbed, but it was joined by abject bewilderment.

"Father?" he called out. "Father, can you hear me? I'm still in the nursery. I haven't—I haven't left. There's bars on the door that I can't open. Did you forget I'm in here? _Father_?"

Silence met his words. Aem'uvus let out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping, and looked to his fabricant. Between the Dovah-Fly models scattered about the floor, and the unwound skeevatons and single verminous fabricant, Vennu's flawed form offered him some small comfort. Even with its single too-short leg, the one patch of smooth metal on its hide from where it had stumbled so often, it was a testament to happier times. Times Aem'uvus had no reason to believe were at their end, at least for a short while.

"Still no answer," he said. "It's been too long. What if he's hurt? What if he doesn't—" The child paused and steeled himself against the thought. "We have to get out and find him. Even if it makes him mad, we—"

As he spoke, Aem'uvus felt a ripple of magicka in the air; familiar, but the rhythm was alien and unsettling. Just off enough that he could sense it, though as more of a feeling than a conviction.

His head rose towards the door. It was still sealed shut, but he felt as if someone – or something – approached. Its energy drew closer and closer, and despite the peculiar tempo, it held the distinct flares of his father. The child pricked his ears, and listened as heavy footfalls reverberated on the other side of the steel. He willed his mouth to open, but it would not. The entire situation felt _wrong_.

The footsteps thudded to the door, then paused. There was a beat in which all was still and silent. His muscles tensed. If he moved, he feared he would be ensnared in some trap that had been set to capture him.

Then came the knocking.

"Aem'uvus?" murmured Sotha Sil's voice, but it was void of his warm, soft comforts, and conjured in the child's mind dark shadows that flittered just at the edge of his vision. Each knock echoed as a _rap…rap…rap…_ around the nursery. Chills ran down his spine, and he did not rush to respond. "Aem'uvus? Come and open the door for your father."

His throat was dry. It took every muscle in his face to force his jaw open, and when he spoke his voice came out as a near squeak, quiet and hesitant. "I—I can't."

Another pause. He heard a rustle of clothes, but more liquid than he recalled them. "I've no time for games, Aem'uvus. Come. Open the door. I have a new friend for you to play with."

"There are bars, Father. On the door," he replied. His feet shuffled on the floor, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands. "I can't open it."

It was a dreadful laugh that followed. The sort he had read in old stories when a villain revealed themselves, or an unwitting fool was startled by the betrayal of a Daedric Prince. Aem'uvus heard as the voice moved, clothes rustling with their liquid-esque strangeness, and the sound of gears whirred a touch louder than he remembered them.

"Then let me leave your new friend behind," came that malevolent chuckle. "After all, what sort of father would I be if I left my dear son to die alone?"

"What—?"

He had no time to finish his thought. From the slightest gap beneath the door, a pool of darkness started to ooze. It was as if the voice had conjured a tar pit, or tipped over a large inkwell. But it hummed with evil, chaotic intent, foreign to the halls of the Cogitum – foreign, even, to the energy his father had excused as an experiment. Aem'uvus backed away, further into his room, and could do little else than watch as it seeped inside.

Had he the presence of mind, perhaps he would have protected himself sooner. He would later realise he was mesmerised. Darker than a shadow, humming a tune that was both distant and recognisable, it appealed to some deep part of himself that lurked further than he had the courage to explore.

Then it started to rise, and from the darkness morphed a human-like figure with eyes that shone as amethysts.

"Vennu!" he shouted. "Come here!"

The fabricant scrambled on its too-short leg, and Aem'uvus had only a second to snatch it from the floor as the creature before him rose to full height. It was tall – not so much as his father, perhaps, but enough to impose upon him a sense of terror. A svelte physique and long tendrils falling past its shoulders made it appear almost feminine, and in its hands a maul of impossible proportions started to shape itself. Its eyes remained fixed on him. On either side, his guardian fabricants came to life. But the child could not will his legs to move, nor loosen his grip around his pet. An unnatural stillness fell over the nursery.

Then it screamed, and he found himself dropping to the floor.

" _Kill it!_ " he bellowed as the creature flew towards him. At the last moment he threw up a ward, which it crashed against with such a force that the spell almost shattered. Had his protectors not fallen upon it then, perhaps it would have broken through. Aem'uvus squeezed his eyes shut against the sound of metal meeting darkness, though he could not shut his ears. The clang and smash of battle, the crackling robotic voices - " _Engaging hostile Daedric presence," -_ drowned out all thought, until he was shivering and frightened and wished, desperately, that his father would come and save him.

When a final _thud_ rang across the room, a deafening silence followed that turned his blood to ice.

Aem'uvus slowly raised his head. What he saw before him was devastation. His guardians laid in pieces across the floor, covered in that evil black ooze. The monster, hands gripped around its maul, stood firm, staring at him while its shoulders rose and fell with laboured breath. Behind it, the sealed door and its enchanted bars appeared to mock him.

The maul was reared once more. The creature rushed forwards, and when it slammed into his shield he felt the tremble, saw a bloom of energy that appeared, at least for a moment, as a crack across it. Aem'uvus flinched. He could do no more than watch as the strikes continued, and each time it wore more of his strength. Even though he wanted to move, to run, his feet remained rooted to the floor. His wide eyes could not tear themselves from the sight.

In truth, he was not certain what snapped him from his trance. Perhaps it was a falter in the monster's form, or the forks that ran as power-sapping lightning before his eyes. But he suddenly heard the slam of its weapon, the shrieks of a thing enraged, and the scene that moved almost in slow motion returned to full speed. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He leant forward, half-crouched and clutching Vennu to his chest.

"Leave me _alone_!"

The scream came out of him with a shockwave of power. The ward expanded out and crashed against the creature, sending it across the room with an inhuman squeal. Aem'uvus stared as it floundered on the floor. It was not until it lifted its head that he remembered the danger.

He leapt to the side of the room when the maul was thrown at him. He heard it clang against the wall just behind his bed, but he had no time to look. In a moment he was at the door, desperate to shatter the barrier while his assailant retrieved its weapon. The initial shot of adrenaline had left his hands trembling, and as he struggled to summon his strength he heard a metallic slide across the floor, slow, deliberate footsteps that grew louder and louder.

"Open, open, open!" he half-pleaded, but no lightning, no flame, no amount of ice or arcane energy could even coax movement from the bars. When air brushed the back of his neck, he sent out one more burst of fire before he launched himself from the strike. The force of the maul hitting steel sent reverberations through the room. But it was more than that. More than a sole _bang_ and a shriek of fury.

There was a crunch – as of metal rending.

Aem'uvus forced his eyes open. The door that had once stood so firm and unyielding was torn asunder. An enormous slash like a claw-strike had revealed the hall, – and he saw his salvation.

The monster turned towards him. It lifted its weapon above its head, eyes trained on him, unwavering in its goal. Despite the quiver of his lip, he lunged forward and through its legs. Before he even realised he had slipped through the tear, he and the pet he held were racing down the halls of the Cogitum. Vennu acted as a weight that made him trip and stumble, but he pushed on, harder and harder to put distance between himself and the screeches that echoed behind him.

His home had become a warzone. Fabricants were either in pieces or hostile, but to a foe he could not see. The air was oppressive and suffocating. But he heard the growls that followed him, crackles of robotic voices – " _Engaging hostile Daedric presence,_ " – the thundering of weapons that served to slow the creature's chase. He had but one thought in his mind as he weaved his way through those machines that were once so familiar to him.

_Heem-Tei,_ he told himself. _Heem-Tei can help. I have to find him. I have to go to the Basilica._

But as he tore through the Cogitum, he saw more and more of that foul corruption. It seemed to coat his beloved metal and machinery, until all that was left was evil and alien. He hoped, prayed, even, that no obstacle would stand between him and the lift.

His dismay when he rounded that final corner was palpable.

The lift – the one he had dreamt so often of ascending, his future and now sole hope for escape – was drowned in that same darkness that had invaded the rest of the Cogitum. It appeared as an impenetrable wall of shadow. It stunned him to see, and for a moment he forgot that he was in a race for his life. Aem'uvus approached it with a childlike wonder, at once horrified and entranced, until he was at its feet and craning his neck to stare.

"Look at it," he murmured to Vennu. His free hand reached forward as if he meant to touch it, but it lingered in the air, moving with the swirls that appeared almost in his mind rather than in his vision. "What is this…?"

For a few seconds, he marvelled at the hall, lips parted, deaf to all but his own fascination. The wall was ever influx - real, not real, colours that he had never seen, that were difficult at first to comprehend. If he listened closely he thought he could hear his name, called across a chasm deeper than space and time. Aem'uvus moved closer. His hand reached further. He was millimetres from touching it.

Then he heard the drum of a march, and he wrenched his eyes from the wall to see a formation of ten, twenty, thirty fabricants, each in rows of five. Reality came crashing down on him. In the same instant, the monster roared into the hall. It lost its footing enough that it careered into the opposite wall, but Aem'uvus flinched and lost whatever precious seconds had been afforded to him.

If not for the fabricants, he would have been cornered. The moment the creature appeared, the machines turned in unison towards it, and the mantra that dominated the Cogitum was called out amid a flurry of blades. The child watched as gleaming attachments plunged over and over into that black hide, and the soft voices that called his name fell silent as he abandoned them for escape.

"The classroom…" he murmured to himself. His feet started to move, his heart pounding inside his chest, his lungs tight and screaming. "The classroom!"

The child ran down the hall as quickly as his short legs could carry him. He heard as fabricants were felled, felt as their bodies hit the floor, but he did not look until he had reached the lift and clambered aboard. His pursuer had taken up after him with a vengeance, and as he half-dropped Vennu beside him he reached for the lever and pulled.

Latches snapped, gears turned and started to groan. The platform jolted to life, but when Aem'uvus looked he saw that monster racing faster than he could move. There was no doubt it would catch him before he could rise out of its reach. In one last show of strength, he lifted his hand.

"Stay away from me!" he bellowed. A rash of lightning erupted from his palm. The shriek split his eardrums, but his pursuer was halted in its tracks. It gave the lift those few seconds it needed to pass the threshold, and the shaft and its blue lights shielded him from the horrors that raged beneath his feet.

Aem'uvus let out a slow, steadying breath. Adrenaline all but evaporated from his body, and it left his knees weak enough that he collapsed into the wall behind him. He felt the drag against his back as the platform ascended, but he could not force himself to stand.

"We're safe," he said to his pet. "We're safe."

The shakiness of his voice did not inspire conviction.

* * *

That whole memory was a nightmare.

I could feel Aem'uvus' terror, hear the blood rushing in my ears – by the gear, I even felt the soles of my feet hurt when he was running! I never thought I'd see something so…so…so evil! And Lord Seht put this in there? What was he thinking? What was—

Calm down, Relarise. There's no use for speculation without all the facts. I mean, U-vee was nervous, wasn't he? He had reason to suspect whoever—whatever was on the other side of that door. The fact that this upsets all you've been raised to believe has no bearing on the truth of the matter.

These memories are showing me that what I've been taught and reality are two very different things.


	7. Shadows over the Basilica

I've had a few days' worth of rest, compiling my notes and calculating how much time I'll reasonably spend catching these stars. It's not going to be quick, even if I employ all the tricks in my arsenal. Best I get comfortable, then. No more complaining how unnerving this place is. The Deep Deck is my home for the foreseeable future.

In that vein, I've resolved to focus myself on the facts as and when I uncover them. It's time I approach this as the scholar I am rather than the doe-eyed devotee I become around Lord Seht. I owe it to him and my family's name to conduct myself with honour and integrity.

Aem'uvus was more than a master to me; more, even, than a god. He was almost…a friend. I'll find out what happened; even if just so someone else knows.

* * *

**Star Fourteen: (Aem'uvus)**

Days, perhaps, had passed since he had escaped to the classroom, and still Aem'uvus did not feel entirely safe from the horrors beneath his feet. He had welded the lift shut with his fire magic, thrown shelves upon shelves over it, but every creak, every noise reignited a flame of terror in his heart. It froze his limbs until he could not move, and he could not sleep for fear of what lingered in the shadows.

If he found Heem-Tei, he was certain he would be safe.

The door was sealed, scorched in places, and Aem'uvus was turned from it, kneeling amongst the wreckage of his classroom. Before him Seht's specialised factotum lay, its facial plating removed, while in silence the child tinkered with the bare circuits and wiring, his brow furrowed, his mouth a hard, straight line on his face. If his mind wandered, he would hear the growling of his stomach and realise he had not eaten since well before his escape. Instead, he barely registered Vennu's aimless puttering, shunting random alchemical ingredients from its path as it went.

After a while, Aem'uvus rested his hands on his knees and eased down on to his haunches. His hardened eyes inspected his work, and – haphazard though it was – he saw some small hope in it. Each gear had been set into alternative positions, each small connection snipped and rebound with the sap of fabricated husks, and the materials he had torn out laid in a useless heap at his side. It would not be looked upon as a great masterpiece. It was hideous, perhaps only stable enough for a single use. But it was a chance.

"We have to make this count," he said, half to Vennu, half to himself, as he rose to his feet. His hands tightened into fists, and there was a trembling in his heart. "Once we find Heem-Tei, we'll find out what happened to Father. He'll know. He has to."

Even as the words left his mouth, Aem'uvus could feel that queer, malignant pulse far below.

* * *

This is unexpected. I'd assumed that the list would contain only stars originating from Lord Seht or Aem'uvus, but this next one…it's from Armialin. He's a hero from Tamriel – even _we've_ heard about him – a vestige of Coldharbour who fought Molag Bal himself and freed his soul. Did he come to the Clockwork City? I don't remember…

I was sick, wasn't I? I was sick for a while; nearly six months. The factotum medica couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. Strange, I…I hardly remember it. It's like a fever dream, catching glimpses…

Whenever I try and focus on the memory, it's like this wave of dread comes over me. My heart stutters and my throat closes. I'm suffocating, but I don't know why.

Why can't I remember any of this? Why isn't it written down? Half a year of my life, just, gone? Poof? And I've never realised it? Mother only mentioned the factotums couldn't fix me, that it was a miracle I survived. I just…I've never tried to _really_ think back on it. Always looking ahead, focusing on the next project, the next promotion. There was no reason to ever consider the past.

What _happened_ to me?

* * *

**Star Fifteen: (Armialin)**

It was odd, very odd indeed, to walk into a world of machines and sorcery and find under its surface the same seeds of corruption that plagued all mortalkind.

Armialin had not expected quite the spectacle when he first entered the Clockwork City – not the shadow rent from Divayth, nor the awesome might of the Fortress, the metal bastion nestled in artificial rock, rising like a pointed finger thrust into the eyes of gods – but within, when he met the apostles, he found terrain more familiar to him. A spectrum of deceit, jealousy, and pettiness that reminded him of distant shores. Perhaps those mortal follies were the only things that could truly grow in Sotha Sil's creation.

"It's different here," said Divayth when the pair entered the Nave. Armialin had not taken much care to analyse it when he met his citizenship sponsor, but now, with his employer, he noticed the aides' hunched shoulders, the near-deafening silence that weighed in the air, broken only with the clank and crackle of factotums. "Not that you would know, I suppose. The Basilica – it's normally a hive of activity. Lectures, experiments, the endless fawning students; all very trite, but that's life in the Fortress. Now? There's something very wrong here."

"If Sotha Sil's acting strangely, others must have noticed," Armialin pointed out.

"My thoughts exactly," the wizard replied, "but as the most powerful mage in the Clockwork City, I find it difficult to have proper conversations with common folk. They grow silent at my approach, then whisper as I leave. An appropriate, but sadly uninformative display of deference. Thus, we'll need to leverage your hard-earned citizenship to make any progress here."

Divayth scanned the hall with his inquisitive eye, and his companion thought for a moment all aides shied from it, as if too nervous to be caught in his path.

"Yes, I'll leave you to it, then," he soon said, "and while you do that, _I'll_ keep Sotha Sil occupied. We don't want the security forces to catch wind of what we're up to until we have concrete evidence that something's wrong here."

Armialin nodded. But as he stepped forward and the wizard made to abscond, a sweeping factotum nearby jolted upright, its mechanical fingers tightening around the broom until its handle bent between them. It was such a sudden movement that it caught both of their attentions, and the High Elf's foot came down in an uncertain step as he peered at it.

"Hello—hello? Is this working? Heem-Tei, are you there?"

The voice was filled with crackles and scratches, but it did not belong to the factotum. No; it was smaller, younger, and when he heard it Divayth's eyebrows knitted together, drawing closer with a look that bordered confusion and fascination.

"Heem-Tei, I don't know if you can hear me, but—" there was a pause, a rustling of clothes, "—but something's wrong. In the Cogitum. With Father. There's shadows and monsters and…I'm scared. I don't know what's happening. Please, come and get me. I'm in the classroom. I'm in the—!"

Then the voice faltered, and the factotum resumed its work with its bent-handle broomstick, as if nothing had occurred at all. But in the wizard's crimson eyes Armialin saw a realisation, and he shook his head in half-admonishment.

"Of course!" he murmured, almost to himself. "Aem'uvus. In all the excitement, I hadn't even thought about him. This could complicate matters."

"What? Hold on, who's Aem'uvus?" asked the adventurer. Divayth glanced at him over his shoulder, as if he had just remembered he was not alone.

"Sotha Aem'uvus, I suppose, is the correct address," he replied, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head. "It's a complicated topic, but for now, all you need to know is that he's Sil's son."

"Sotha Sil has a son? I've never heard that."

"Nor have many others," the wizard told him. "He's just one of the many secrets Sil keeps in the Cogitum Centralis. That he's not under his father's feet is enough cause for concern, but that message…" Pressing his fist to his chin, Divayth looked down at his feet for one moment, his brow arched in deep thought. Then he looked sharply at his companion, and the resolve in his face told Armialin that the pair had much to do. "We have to reconsider our approach. We need to speak with Aem'uvus – which means we need to find this classroom."

"There are hundreds of classrooms around the Fortress," the adventurer pointed out. "If we're going to find the boy, we're going to need to find this 'Heem-Tei' he was trying to speak to first."

The Dark Elf swept the room once more, urging the aides closer to their tables, his shoulders straightening as he took in a slow, deep inhale of breath. Then he moved towards the door, and nodded for Armialin to follow him.

"I know him. Well, no, that implies he's impressive enough to pique my interests. I know _of_ him," he said. "He's an engineer – the best of the Apostles, by all accounts. He'll likely be in the Archivox, if not one of the libraries. Come along."

And with that, Divayth departed the Nave, leaving to scramble after him an adventurer that felt rather like a dull child. The door slid closed on their receding images, and once more, the Basilica was plunged into a dim silence, broken only by the click and clack of machines.


	8. A Secret Well-Placed

**Star Sixteen: (Armialin)**

Heem-Tei was not unlike other Argonians Armialin had met in his time; at least, not to the naked eye. It was in his behaviours that he differed. His claws were stained with oil, and he moved without his Nirn-born brethren's natural fluidity, hurrying from one set of conveyer-belt bookshelves to another, with such a focus that he could have put even the most renown of Mages Guild members to shame. Around his neck he wore a pendant of tarnished metal, which he occasionally plucked and rolled between his fingers while in deep thought. It was no surprise that a researcher with such steadfast concentration had climbed so high in the Apostles' esteem.

"You, there," said Divayth as he strode inside the Archivox proper. The sudden disturbance of his voice in the still, silent air startled the engineer, who almost dropped the metal book-plate he held. Lizard-like eyes widened, and Heem-Tei's voice responded as a faint croak.

"Ma-Master Fyr?!"

"Your veneration, while well-placed, will have to wait," the wizard replied. In amongst the rows of scrolls and metallic books, Divayth reminded his companion of a particularly harsh tutor, and Heem-Tei his quivering student. "There are more pressing matters at hand right now. I assume you're familiar with Aem'uvus, yes?"

The engineer's reaction was almost instant. Spines straightened, feathers puffed, and he regarded them with a shocked – and touch suspicious – new air.

"I—what? Aem'uvus? I'm—I'm afraid you're mistaken, Master Fyr. There's no Aem'uvus among the Apostles."

Divayth waved his hand as if in disgust. "Do you think I of all people wouldn't know about the boy? Insinuating that I'd be in the dark about something so banal is almost insulting. But as we're in a hurry, I'll forgive your little transgression, in exchange for whatever information you have about Aem'uvus' classroom."

There was a pause. Heem-Tei's gaze shifted rapidly from the wizard to his companion, over and over until Armialin was uncertain he would ever respond. Hesitation was scrawled in his tensed shoulders and stiff tail, while a silence settled between them that stretched on far longer than necessary.

"Please, Master Fyr, you must understand," he soon pleaded. "Lord Seht gave us very specific orders. Orders that prohibit us from even speaking of Lord Uvus, let alone revealing the location of his private classroom. If I broke my lord's confidence—!" There was a shake-that-was-not-quite-a-shake, and the feathers dusting his head fluttered. "Losing my position as one of Lord Uvus' tutors would be the least of my troubles."

Heem-Tei wrung his hands together as he spoke, as if it would strengthen his appeal in Divayth's eyes. Perhaps the old mage's reputation did not precede him as much as he thought, Armialin mused. Even in the face of clear distress, he remained unmoved, his brow low and eyes narrowed, scanning the engineer's face with the cold calculations of one who had spent their life risking death for knowledge.

"Heem-Tei," said the adventurer, and the sound of his voice drew Heem-Tei's gaze from Divayth. "He's in danger. He tried to send a message – that's how we even know he's in the classroom. He was trying to reach you."

That seemed to spur some reaction from the Argonian. His lipless mouth eased closed, and the arch of his brow slackened, his eyes softening – or, at least, what Armialin surmised as 'softening' – and growing concerned.

"Danger? Im…impossible. Lord Uvus is inside the Cogitum Centralis. The Centralis is impenetrable. If it were compromised, Lord Seht would have to be compromised as well; and that's just ridiculous."

Armialin looked over at Divayth, but the wizard's face revealed little. Uncertain if Heem-Tei would offer them more than incredulous stuttering, the adventurer made to turn back out of the Archivox door, a snort of derision on his lips – but the sudden squeeze of a clawed hand on his forearm stopped him, and he turned once more to see the engineer's eyes fixed squarely on his own.

"Wait," he commanded. It was a strange sound, unfamiliar on Heem-Tei's tongue, and his voice did not muster much conviction. But Armialin did not rebuke him, and he saw a slight relief at that. "What did it say? This message?"

Before he could reply, Divayth cut in. "Enough to know that something isn't right in the Clockwork City. The boy may have information we can use to discover what's at the heart of the trouble. Regardless, I don't imagine leaving him locked up without any protection would inspire much enthusiasm from Sotha Sil, hm?"

Gears appeared to turn in Heem-Tei's head, and soon his fingers eased from Armialin's forearm and he offered them an apprehensive nod. His hands returned to their wringing, this time accompanied with a slight hop from foot to foot, as if his feet were urging him to flee.

"A few cycles ago," he started, "something…unusual happened. I was called in last minute, you see, to cover Aem'uvus' alchemy lesson for a colleague. It went as normal for the most part – he was listening, answering questions, laughing – but then…" a pause, as if the engineer needed to compose himself. "Then, Lord Seht withdrew him early from the lecture, with no real explanation. I haven't heard from either of them since." Heem-Tei's scaled throat bobbed as he gulped, wrenching his stare from his claws to the men in front of him. "There's no logical reason you would know to seek me out; unless what you're saying is true. That thought terrifies me beyond words. But I'll take you to the classroom. To Aem'uvus."

Armialin glanced at Divayth, who, with confirmation in hand, had turned towards the door before the engineer had even finished speaking. The door opened for him, but when he set foot over the threshold and into the false sunlight outside, the wizard cast them a fierce, impatient look over his shoulder.

"Well?" he demanded. "You're coming, yes? I can't be expected to wait all day."

The others hurried after him. As the sound of footsteps on metal faded into the distance, the air of the Archivox was filled with the _clack, clack, clack_ of moving shelves, and the occasional whirr of a gear.

* * *

**Star Seventeen: (Aem'uvus)**

Floors made of brass and copper were cold to lay one's head upon, but Aem'uvus had been so exhausted that he hardly noticed – or cared. In truth, he had not meant to fall asleep at all. A simple rest, and before he realised what had happened his eyes inched open to a far later hour, and Vennu crouched in standby beside him. Blinking sleep-bleared eyes, the boy looked about himself, confused about his surroundings; and then his gaze fell upon the tattered, torn-apart factotum, the wreckage that was once his classroom, and memories of what had transpired flooded his mind.

He hauled himself from the floor as though his bones were heavy and ancient. As he did, Vennu rose to life, shaking dust from its brass flank and clacking its legs against the floor in greeting. Aem'uvus reached down to give its hide an absent-minded scratch.

"Heem-Tei still isn't here?" he questioned. There was a slight exasperation in his voice; a hopeless quiver that verged on a sigh. "What if he didn't hear us? What if we can't open the door? I don't want to go back inside the Cogitum. Father…"

His thoughts drifted close to despair, but Aem'uvus shook his head as if to banish them. A child was so often spurred on by even the smallest of encouragements, and even the faint trill of Vennu's circuits were enough to lift his spirits.

"If Heem-Tei's not coming," he declared as he approached the few shelves still left standing, "then I'll figure a way out myself. I'm going to find out what's wrong with Father, even if I have to do it all alone!"

Ingredients for potions were scattered here and there, and spare scrap enough that he could _perhaps_ build some precious few small devices – but whether or not those would be of any use, he could not say. He wished his enchanting table had not been removed for improvements.

Just as he accepted that he would need to craft a potion or two to aid his escape, a strange noise caught his attention. A clunk, followed by creaks and squeals similar to old gears being coaxed into movement. Aem'uvus turned to the door, dropping the chaurus eggs he clutched so tightly to the floor.

It eased open, and the light was so bright that it blinded him.

* * *

**Star Eighteen: (Armialin)**

Heem-Tei had approached the area with a sort of reverence – not uncommon, Armialin thought, in a sanctuary.

Reliefs of the Tribunal adorned the walls, and small shrines had been erected here and there, but rather than stone these were cast in brass and copper, and offering bowls were filled with tools and scrolls rather than gold and flowers. The smell of incense and oil mingled in the air and the lights were dimmed, while three bronze statues stood vigil within; Almalexia, the Merciful Mother; Vivec, the Warrior-Poet; and Sotha Sil, the Clockwork God.

"This is a strange place to put a secret entrance," Armialin remarked. "High foot-traffic."

"All in the city runs on a schedule," the engineer explained as he approached Vivec's statue. When he looked upon it, Heem-Tei stood for a moment in quiet contemplation, fear tinging his eyes, before he touched the necklace draped around his neck. "This place – it's quiet around this time. No one to realise a locked door, or see what should remain hidden. But we mustn't linger. If what you say is true, Lord Uvus needs to be removed to a safe place before someone can see him."

The adventurer had not known what he expected, but what happened next was not it. Heem-Tei pulled the pendant from his neck, snapping the chain, and held it up to the statue before them. Brass eyes started to glow, and the pendant itself burned with a rune that had not been there before; a rune Armialin did not recognise, despite his time researching them in his travels. Even Divayth seemed intrigued by it, though it was a fleeting look he offered that vanished almost as soon as it appeared.

An incantation, whispered in a dead language, opened the door. Vivec's statue gave a shuddering jolt, and a loud _crack_ echoed through the empty sanctuary, ringing in Armialin's ears. It yawned open, and like children, he, Divayth, and their companion crowded inside the slowly-widening entrance to see what laid behind it.

The mess the classroom was in was unexpected, but that was not what caught Armialin's attention. In amongst the scattered shelves, the broken constructs, the scorched brass and copper, there stood a small child; an elf, his ears pointed and slender, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeves of the emerald green tunic he wore. When his arms fell away from his face, however, the adventurer sucked in a breath through his teeth, and for a moment he could not will his limbs to move.

He was beautiful.

In a childish fashion, yes, but beautiful all the same. Aem'uvus' eyes were wide and golden, his face lean, and his nose was a gentle slope above a mouth shaped like an archer's bow. His skin was the pale gold of the Chimer. When Armialin looked upon him, he felt transported to a time long forgotten, shrouded in myth and legend.

"Heem-Tei?" came his small, uncertain voice. It held a slight echo; a sign of burgeoning power, not yet fully realised. Beside him a beetle fabricant puttered, its legs uneven and its flank scratched in places. "You heard me! I knew it – I knew you'd come! But…" Aem'uvus looked at Divayth and the adventurer each, hesitant, perhaps even slightly afraid. "Who are they?"

The engineer, who had paused in shock to observe the chaos of the classroom, seemed to snap out of his trance when Aem'uvus spoke. Reaching out towards him, Heem-Tei crouched and beckoned him closer; but the boy lingered, holding his hands close to his chest as he watched the unknown pair with a wary eye.

"They are friends, Lord Uvus," he soothed. "But we must leave quickly – before someone sees us."

"There's something wrong with Father," replied Aem'uvus. "He's—he's sick, I think. He feels all wrong. He tried…He tried to…!" his voice hitched, and his eyes grew wet. "There are monsters down there. Please – we need to help Father."

Heem-Tei cast a sideways glance at his companions, but quickly returned his attention to the child. "We will; after we've taken you somewhere safe. Come with us and I promise you, we will help Lord Seht."

Once more there was a pause, a hesitation, as the child looked at his tutor's outstretched hand, and gazed upon the light spilling in from a world he had never seen before. But for all the trepidation in his eyes, Aem'uvus had no other choice. Armialin watched as he looked down at the puttering beetle beside him, then at them. When he approached, he did so slowly and with caution. His lip trembled as he reached out to take Heem-Tei's hand.

"I'll come with you. As long as we come back for Father," he said. The engineer's claws clasped around his shining skin, and Armialin saw a soft squeeze pass between them.

"As touching as this all is," interrupted Divayth, whose voice caused Aem'uvus to start and almost shrink back, "we need to leave. Uvus, put this on, and don't take it off until I tell you to. Quickly, now."

A black hood was thrust into the boy's hands, and as he raised it to the light Armialin saw a mask had been attached to it; rather reminiscent of the Morag Tong, he thought, though the patterns he had seen on Naryu's uniform were not present. Had he time, the adventurer may have questioned its necessity. But a knock at the sanctuary door snapped up their attention, and he found himself hurrying Aem'uvus out into the open and helping to fasten the hood in place, while Heem-Tei rushed to close the entrance.

"One moment!" exclaimed the Argonian to more irritable raps against the door. Perhaps it was the sudden action around him, but when Armialin put his hand on the now-masked Aem'uvus' shoulder, the child did not flinch from him.

There was a long road ahead, he realised, as the sanctuary was sent back into place and Heem-Tei moved to unlock the door. The adventurer only hoped that no more complications arose.


	9. In a Land of Steel

I had a dream last night.

I don't remember much of it. One of those that you can see glimpses of when you wake, but never the full picture. Every so often, my mind calls back to a vague, haloed silhouette, and my lungs start to constrict as if I'm drowning. Perhaps my old illness…? It makes sense, I suppose, since I've been dwelling on the past so much – quite literally, I mean.

But there's still things to do, stars to catch, memories to examine and duties to tend to. I've set more traps in the last week than I ever have in my life, and it looks like my efforts have finally borne fruit. Six stars, two of which are next on the list; and since these were _particularly_ feisty s'wits, I'm considering that an achievement.

It's strange. I want to see what happens next, and yet I'm terrified at the same time. The responsibilities that come with this knowledge, the burden of knowing itself; all these secrets feel as if they're weighing me down to the ground. Blessed Seht, guide me. I have so much more to learn.

* * *

**Star Nineteen: (Armialin)**

Inside the Mechanical Fundament, where broken factotums and useless scrap metal was left abandoned, Armialin guided Aem'uvus to a campsite that was half-decayed and out of sight, sequestered from the winding halls by hastily built dividers. It was odd to set such a precious secret down in the heart of such squalor, but none of the three could think of a place more hidden.

"Where are we? I can't—Is this where we'll help Father?" the child asked as Armialin settled him in the discarded campsite. Confused eyes looked out at the tent which drooped over splintered supports, and the pot filled with holes and an ill-fitting cover.

"It's someplace safe," he replied. "You'll be fine here until we solve whatever's happening in the city."

Aem'uvus' face darkened. "I don't want to stay here. I want to help Father! He _needs_ me!"

"Your Grace, Armialin is right – it's important that you're kept safe from harm," offered Heem-Tei, wringing his hands together as if the words felt false on his tongue. "We will do all we can to help Sotha Sil, I promise you."

"Father _needs_ me!"

A rumbling sounded around the Fundament when the child turned, his footsteps clanging while his hands tightened into fists. Armialin thought he saw him trembling, but what little light there was did not make it a simple matter to tell.

"It's not fair," the entire place shook and groaned, threatening to throw them from their feet. Fyr reached out to clutch a nearby strut and the adventurer crouched lower to the floor to avoid tumbling on to it. "Father has always looked after me. I don't want to abandon him. I can't. I won't. I won't stay down here; and you can't _make me_!"

Aem'uvus slammed his foot in the ground. It sent a shockwave through the floor, so strong that the nearby wandering factotums all came crashing down, their falls punctuated with hollow, ringing echoes that briefly deafened them before fading at length down the halls. Once the echoes had died, it left a loaded silence that hung in the air like tar. The child's shoulders heaved, and his breathing was heavy.

"If we're done with that," Fyr's voice broke the silence. He stepped forward, though Aem'uvus did not turn to meet him. "If what you told us is even remotely accurate, we have neither the time nor the resources to babysit you. Whether you consider it fair or not is irrelevant. Remain down here, or put yourself and the operation to help Sotha Sil at risk. Those are your options."

There was a pause. Electricity crackled through the air, and for a moment Armialin wondered whether the child would attack them. But then his hooded head raised ever-so-slightly, and his voice came out as little more than a whisper.

"Why would I believe you can save him without me?" he asked.

"For one, we aren't tantruming children," replied Fyr. "For two, we're more powerful and capable than your run-of-the-mill Apostles, and we're not blinded by doe-eyed reverence. If anyone can help your father, it's us."

Another pregnant silence fell upon them. It stretched on for a few moments before the child turned. His eyes were wide and earnest, full of something close to trust, but not quite.

"Do you really think you can help him?" The question was asked with a tremble, as if Aem'uvus was close to tears. The wizard did not unfold his arms and did not appear moved in the slightest, but when he spoke again he did so with less of an edge to his voice.

"We will do our utmost to return him to his senses," he said. The child cast his eyes down, his shoulders slumping, and with the smallest nod he conceded defeat. Trudging to one of the tattered seats, Aem'uvus set himself down and sunk his head into his hands, where he let out a deep sigh.

"I'll wait here," he promised. "But if anything happens—"

"You'll be the first to know," assured Armialin. "For now, just sit tight and watch after yourself. One of us will come and check up on you soon."

His response was a barely audible grunt, and the child remained quiet and slumped in his chair even as they departed his company. Heem-Tei made as though to protest leaving him without protection, but Divayth silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"If we're to keep Aem'uvus hidden and get on with this task, nothing can be amiss," he told him. "I suspect people would notice if you vanished from your rotations. Whether or not anyone would look for you is another matter, but I'm not willing to run the risk at such a critical juncture."

"Let's just hope Aem'uvus keeps to his word and stays put," said Armialin as they reached the door. He threw the lever standing beside it, listening as gears clicked and whirred and steam hissed to slide open before them.

"Don't be a fool, Armialin – of course he won't," the wizard replied. He stepped through the door and into the warm artificial light, looking ahead rather than at his companions, ignoring or entirely missing the adventurer's bewildered stare. "That's why we have to move quickly. When the boy reveals himself, I want us to be in the best position possible to uncover what's truly going on here."

* * *

Abandoning the Clockwork Son in the Mechanical Fundament?! What was Fyr thinking? I've always been told he was an iconoclast, but really, there must be limits. Aem'uvus was only a child! Urgh, my mother was right – I haven't even met him and _I'm_ frustrated with the man.

* * *

**Star Twenty: (Aem'uvus)**

Comforting trills of machinery and Vennu's puttering echoed in the halls of the Fundament, but little could pierce the veil that Aem'uvus was shrouded in. He alternated from head-in-his-hands despair to abject boredom, and from then he would stand up and pace the floor, anxiously awaiting news from above. For all that time, his thoughts never strayed from his father.

It was not long before he dared to venture out of that decrepit campsite to spy on the factotums littered around the place. Their stiff movements reminded him of the Centralis, and so he convinced himself to advance further and further within, until he was so far inside that Divayth's warning was a dull roar in his ears. Behind crates and discarded slag heaps, Aem'uvus crept through the halls to peer upon Sotha Sil's machines at work, and felt a strange sense of loss at the sight of them. Each creak and clank reminded him of home. The smell of oil conjured memories of his father's embrace, how his robes and hair smelt of metal and machinery, while the constant drone spirited him back to the hum of memories that floated above him when he drifted to sleep, or the soothing tenor of Seht's voice as he read him another bedtime story after a persuasive argument. Every recollection spurred him on. It was not until he turned around that he realised he had not been paying attention to which paths he had taken, and he was uncertain of the route back to his camp. A sudden terror gripped his heart as he looked down on Vennu.

"Oh no," he whispered. "Fyr and Armialin are going to be so _mad_ at me."

In a desperate attempt to recall the path, Aem'uvus retraced his steps, but soon he came to a nexus of halls that were at once alien and all too alike. Each one had the same differences, and he realised that any attempt to return would be a long, drawn-out affair that had very little likelihood of succeeding. His hands wrung together, the child worried at his bottom lip while looking down each one in turn, calculating the chances of a random correct guess – or a string of them, at that.

"I'm in so much trouble," he said to Vennu. "I don't remember—I don't remember—!"

"Did you hear that?"

The voice caught him by surprise. Aem'uvus' mouth clamped shut and he dove behind a crate, daring not even to peer out around the corners as strange footsteps reverberated from one of the halls. It sounded small, its tenor shrill and alien; and as the creature came closer he sensed an energy behind it that was both repulsive and familiar. Whatever lurked just beyond his sight, it was not meant for the Clockwork City – but he could have sworn he had felt it before.

"It's nothing, you fool!" came another voice, similar to a female's, but not quite. "If there's any mortals down here, the metal-god's machines would have taken care of them. And if not? They're weak. They'll die anyway."

The child's breath hitched as the creature came closer. He could see its shadow stretched on the wall across from him, and with horror he regarded thick horns that protruded from its forehead, long, flowing hair that obscured what small facial details he could parse. His arm wrapped around Vennu to still its puttering. Not even a muscle twitched as this daemon paused to scan its surroundings.

"Eh," it soon relented, "perhaps you're right. There's nothing here. A shame."

The shadow retreated, and the footsteps faded down the hall once more. Aem'uvus remained still for a long moment more, ensuring it had left, before he released his grip on his pet. Every limb quivered and threatened to give way as he leaned just far enough to see the halls ahead. Even when he saw the creature's absence for himself, he almost did not believe it.

"We have to figure out the way back," he whispered, his voice low and filled with trembles. "Vennu, do you remember?"

The child had not expected much when he asked, but it was as if his words had short-circuited his fabricant for a split second. Vennu became still, quiet – then, with a sudden burst of liveliness, it wound up and skittered towards one of the halls. Forgetting his terror in favour of his confusion, Aem'uvus rose to his feet and peered quizzically at the machine.

"I...never fitted you with a map tracking system," he pointed out, almost to himself. "I couldn't even make all of your legs the same size. How can you...?"

Of course, Vennu merely paused at the end of that hall, puttering quietly as it waited for him to follow. Tilting his head, the child's brow furrowed and he looked at his pet with a new, fresh curiosity.

Then he remembered the creatures that stalked the halls, and his wonderment was replaced quickly with caution. Aem'uvus crouched lower to the floor, as he had read in storybooks, and started after the fabricant.

"Come on," he murmured softly. Once more Vennu set off on a determined path, and despite his anxious gait and the glances he threw over his shoulder, Aem'uvus followed.


End file.
